Stroking in Happiness
by I Boudicca I
Summary: Prussia stops by Italy's, planning to clean the place for him, but finds him asleep instead.  And isn't he cute...


_Kink meme de-anon._

"West, hey West." Prussia waited. Silence from his brother's room.

"We-est..." He knocked again, hard and loud. Still nothing.

Frustrated, he flung the door open - Germany's room was empty, the bed already made.

"Where..." Prussia scowled. "Well fine, guess who I'm _not_ going to make apple pancakes for, then!" Screw breakfast, he wasn't really hungry anyway.

Instead, Prussia settled down in front of the TV, game controller in his hand.

/*/

"Fuck yeah!" he crowed as he beat the top score. "Hey West, I beat the - oh, yeah."

He glared at the list of high scores on the screen. Yet another thing that wasn't as cool without somebody to appreciate it. Old Fritz was always telling him how good he was at things. These days nobody appreciated just how awesome Prussia really was.

Got to do something about that.

Prussia slouched into the couch, trying to think what he could do to get some appreciation.

Waging a war was, regrettably, out. Too bad, 'cause _everybody_ had to admit that nobody was quite so fucking _kick-ass_ at war as Prussia.

Pancakes had been a bust.

What else...

Prussia rubbed his forehead, trying to think of the last time somebody had really appreciated something he did. Then it came to him. A surprised, appreciative "_Thank_ you, Prussia," from Germany... but what had he done to deserve it...

Aha! It was when he'd cleaned up the kitchen after Italy came over to make them dinner. And he'd done a damn fine job of it - not a drop of flour or tomato sauce remained on West's precious counters or dishes, and considering the way the place had looked while Italy was cooking, that was saying something.

Hmm... speaking of Italy...

Prussia hauled himself to his feet. Maybe he'd stop by Italy's place, offer to help him tidy up a bit. He'd probably get a nice big hug from it, if nothing else.

/*/

Prussia knocked on the door at Italy's house, but got no reply.

Not about to let unanswered knock ruin this plan too, he tried the knob. It turned. He hesitated a moment before opening the door - no telling what Italy's psycho brother would do if he was home and Prussia walked in uninvited - but, if Romano was home, he probably would have heard him shrieking something about potatoes by now. What a fucking weirdo.

Still, maybe it was better to be a little quiet as he went in. He shut the door behind him, looking around. No sign of either Italy. Well, maybe he'd wait, or something...

Wandering casually through the house, he came to an open door, and was surprised to see Italy's bedroom - with Italy asleep in bed.

_So. Fucking. Cute._

He couldn't help grinning as he walked, slowly and quietly, into the room. Not too close - he didn't want to wake Italy. He just looked so... so... Prussia bit his lip. Whatever it was, it was good.

Italy murmured a little and shifted in his sleep, turning so that a lock of hair fell over his eyes.

He smiled in his sleep.

Prussia was riveted. _Gott_ how he wanted to stroke Italy's hair, it looked so _soft_. He reached towards Italy, fingers twitching with the desire to touch. If his arm would just _stretch_ out, he'd be able to reach...

_Fuck. He's too fucking adorable_. Hey, Italy was a heavy sleeper, right? Abandoning caution, he settled on the edge of the bed and sank his fingers into Italy's hair. Smooth and soft and clean and ooohh so good to touch... like soft silky feathers except attached to someone whose skin looked rather soft and nice, too.

He carefully lowered a hand onto Italy's exposed shoulder. Italy murmured softly but didn't seem to be waking up, so he petted a little, tracing the small, pleasant curve of Italy's shoulder muscle.

His skin was so smooth, and gorgeously tawny, and... hm. Prussia realized that he was starting to be maybe just a little turned on by this.

But how could he help it? Italy's lean, gorgeous body, his perfect skin under Prussia's hands - and his lovely soft hair, and the little _sounds_ he made! Murmurs and sighs and hot little breaths and... and Prussia felt he should be _commended_ for not jumping the kid right now!

He looked so happy, anyway. Smiling in his sleep, and no one could deny that those little murmurs were happy ones...

So it had to be okay, right? It was just for a few minutes, anyway.

Prussia leaned close over Italy, slipping back the sheet to caress his chest while his other hand toyed with that curly hair -

"Mmmf." This was no little murmur, it was a throaty _moan_.

Prussia froze where he was, startled. When Italy didn't show any other signs of being awake (and once Prussia's heart wasn't pounding quite so hard) he resumed petting Italy, barely resisting the desire to pinch a small, pink nipple between his fingers. He licked his fingertip and ran it along Italy's curl.

"Mmm-_mmm_-mmm."

He jerked upright, sure he'd woken Italy this time - but aside from the _very interesting_ noise he'd made, Italy looked as peaceful as ever.

Chuckling nervously - even if Italy wouldn't think anything of it, he'd still feel kind of weird if he got caught doing... whatever the hell he was doing - Prussia eased his hands back down onto Italy's warm skin. He ran the palms of his hands down Italy's chest, breath hitching as the firm buds of Italy's nipples passed beneath his fingertips.

He wasn't even going to push the sheets down any further, but then his elbow nudged against something and -

Oh. Heheh. There was a tent in the sheets. Prussia grinned, predatory, without even meaning to. _That makes two of us, then_. He reached for the bulge, hand so close that he could feel the heat of Italy's hard cock even through the sheet...

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck._ He dropped his hand to his side. It was just too creepy; he couldn't bring himself to. _Gott_ how he would have liked to wrap his hand around Italy's cock and just... just... _Fuck_.

Scowling - whether he was angry for the lapse in conscience that got him into this situation, or the return of conscience at an inconvenient time, he wasn't sure - Prussia rose and stormed out of the house. At least this was a quiet street; he could probably jack himself off in the car without anybody seeing.

/*/

Italy rolled his head back into the pillow, eyelids fluttering in half-sleep. What had woken him? He'd been having such a good dream, and it had seemed so real! But now he couldn't quite remember it...


End file.
